


What do you do when you're in love with your brother?

by illwynd



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Feels, Ficlet, Intimacy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sibling Incest, Sleeping Together, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 00:55:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15449757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illwynd/pseuds/illwynd
Summary: What do you do when you’ve been in love with your brother for hundreds of years, and one day you realize that he feels the same way?





	What do you do when you're in love with your brother?

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was born out of a trope mashup tumblr meme. The prompter asked for mutual pining + sleep intimacy.

What do you do when you’ve been in love with your brother for hundreds of years, since you first began to understand that feeling, the fluttering of wings in your belly when he smiled just at you—you spent a lot of time with that feeling, and whenever it was gone you sought out more, and antagonized those who would have gotten in the way of it. The comfort of being with him—that could just be the lot of brothers, of kin who have been together since their earliest memories and never grew apart, but you don’t think it is. It feels like more. It feels different.

If you both were anyone else, you would believe it is only that. But Thor is glorious. Most people do not have a brother like him. 

How strangely easy it is to be close to him—you sit with shoulders pressed together, you lean into his touch upon your neck as you welcome no one else’s hands. With everyone else you pull away, tense up, draw back and keep your gaze impassive, your mouth a thin line. With him, you find yourself smiling as well. You find yourself gazing at his lips and imagining… imagining things you will never get to know.  _Cannot_  ever know.

It would hurt more if you hadn’t caught him looking back at you the same way, your breath catching in your throat in disbelief, doubting your own perception, needing it to be true.

You start misbehaving, with old mischief, because you enjoy the tension that comes of it—like being children again and getting Thor into trouble with you, following Thor into trouble as well, because you may fight, you may push each other, but he is always there. Never turns away.

One such night you imbibe together, and it is dangerous enough in company. With others all around, you brush your fingertips across his knuckles—a casual, accidental caress—and see him shiver, and the quickly following flush. The sensation of power is like the fluttering again. But with wings fiercer and darker.

You’re in love with your brother. And you want him. You want so much from him—want to sate all the hidden darkness that has festered inside you, drench it in his light, or stain him with your shadows. You want.

His eyes meet yours over the rim of a glass, and if you were alone, you’d probably do things you shouldn’t. And the way he looks at you, so open… he’d let you.

The idea is frightening.

Ever since you understood what had befallen you, there has been certainty and safety in knowing that it will never happen. Can never be more than a dream. It will always be this ache, beneath the fluttering.

You have relied upon that pain. That love. They are one and the same.

You are terrified as you follow your brother to his chambers. No one questions how this appears, no matter the urgency in your steps.

_Here we played as children._

_Here we argued just last week._

_Here…_

Thor closes the door behind you, and he does not embrace you at once. He runs his fingers through your hair, looks at you like he’s seeing you anew. The lamp behind him casts a glow all around, and you stand in his shadow, desperate.

“We should sleep,” he says, and you can hear the ache in his voice as well. Just like your own.

You nod, and you watch like a starving man as he strips off his clothes, baring himself before your eyes with purposeful intent. You follow behind, trembling, and slip beside him beneath the covers.

Brothers. You know his skin almost as well as your own. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing unforgivable. Nothing can happen—you are determined to protect him from yourself, from the shame you would bring. But Thor fits so perfectly against you, and you slide your palm against his bare chest, to feel the fluttering within, companion to your own.

You don’t kiss. Even that would be too much, too dangerous, too far. But you feel his lips resting against your shoulder, moving there subtly.

You fit against your brother’s body so perfectly, and you want him so badly you can barely breathe.

All you can do is tangle your limbs with his and squeeze your eyelids shut and let the ache consume you. Let it burn you away into nothing.

In the morning, the sunlight falls upon you both, still entwined together, sweat-stuck and overhot, chill where limbs stick out from blankets, and it is all so simple and full of peace. Thor wakes, it seems, at the same moment, and you are so close together, noses touching, and he must have the same thought, for you both dissolve in laughter. Naked in bed, innocent, content, together.

You’re in love with your brother.


End file.
